


what the rain brings

by polyxena_chatoyant



Series: fleurdora [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, Valentine’s Day fic, light cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 03:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17779427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyxena_chatoyant/pseuds/polyxena_chatoyant
Summary: a horrible end to a horrible day.





	what the rain brings

**Author's Note:**

> me to me, realizing it’s Valentine’s Day at 2:30AM: need to fic
> 
> Me back to me: fic what? 
> 
> Me to me, again, this time at 4 am: FIC THIS

The rain crashed down from the sky, a saying that would seem dramatic to anyone who couldn’t feel the force of every droplet hitting them. A horrible end to a horrible day.

Having had to wake up unusually early for a longer shift, Tonks had forgotten her rain cloak on the way to the Ministry that morning and the rain had already soaked through her layers. A routine check on what seemed like a case of accidental magic had proven to be a murder, and the killer was in the wind. Jameson has stolen her scones from the break room. Today, it seemed, the world was out to get her. 

A cold wind rushed alongside the storm, blowing shop signs around on their poles and stray items from unattended kiosks. Tonks shivered with each step, along with any passerby. Diagon Alley has been mostly abandoned and Unicorn Union was barely being manned by the overworked kiosk sales-folk. The weather was so terrible, none of them tried to reclaim their lost merchandise and Nymphadora only thought about getting it for them a few times. She couldn’t even spare the energy needed to take out her wand and cast a warming charm on herself let alone go chasing after the off-brand potioneer’s fake-crystal vials rolling down the cobblestones.

Wrapping her arms more tightly around her torso, holding her cloak shut around her, Tonks made to double down and move faster. A gust of wind blew her to the right and a lock of hair stabbed her violently in the eye. Tonks grunted, jerking her head back as if she could run away from her own hair - and then tripped. As if the world had slowed, or perhaps she had become the Seer her third-year, Divination-obsessed self had always wanted to be, fore she saw herself and how she was about to land.

In a puddle, face first.

Not. Today.

Tonks threw her upper body weight backwards, but her knees continued forwards. Bent backwards she no longer had control, and she still hadn’t moved her arms from around herself, still trying to keep warm. Her knees slammed hard into the rough cobblestone, the puddle revealing itself to be more a crater filled with murky rain water. Her elbows scrape onto the ground next as she rolls to miss hitting her head. For a moment the world is silent except for the rain as she gets her bearings.

Some paces away, a sales wizard winces. “Oh that’s gonna hurt in the morning.”

He doesn’t offer to help her up, though, the bastard. 

Tonks pretends to not have heard him and finally unlatches her arms from around her torso. They feel stiff from having been in the same position for so long, and they pop and crack when she straightens her fingers, pushing against the cobblestone to lift herself up. The rain continues to pour, uncaring of the hatred it has earned from her and her entire future bloodline. Tonks is going to have to be the first witch to invent anti-rain wards. Unless it’s already been done, in which case she’s just going to have to start a support group. Folks Done Wrong By The Weather.  They’ll meet the first day after a storm and drink firewhiskey and eat cream puffs.

Tonks shakes her head, her long locks shrinking to a buzz cut.  _ Don’t think about Fleur’s cream puffs right now, think about them later. _

A rapid-fire squeaking nose distracts her from the thought of a delicate pastry. To her right, at the kiosk where the Bastard is now ignoring her, something white flashes from under the cart. The Bastard jumps at the noise, throwing his head every which way to find the source. 

“What the hell?” He steps out from the umbrella on the kiosk, rain starting to soak him. 

Tonks rolls over and onto her knees, pushing herself off the ground - slipping slightly but managing to catch herself. Her back cracks when she straightens, and her features rearrange themselves into a Moody-esque seriousness, her nose even taking on his crooked shape.

“Auror here, let me see what’s hiding under there.” 

The Bastard motions with one hand, the other running through his hair and tugging. “Go ahead. I’m sure the clumsiest Auror I’ve ever seen can keep me safe.”

Tonks grits her teeth and holds tight to her shape. It wouldn’t do well for it to get back to Moody that she turned furious fuschia and screamed at a civvie, on or off duty. She creeps forward and listens for the squeaking.

One step. Another.

And then the...whatever, moves again and makes the same squeaking. Tonks reaches into her cloak pocket and takes out her wand, kneeling down slowly a few steps away from the cart. The rain is sliding down the back of her collar now with the way she’s got her neck craned, so she’s going to be right pissed if it’s nothing dangerous. The white flashes again, but no sounds are made.

She waits for the white to flash again, having barely caught a glimpse of it before a whispered stunner rockets forwards. The spell collides with the creature, and lays still. With her wand still in hand, Tonks kneel-walks awkwardly closer, and wishes she had simply stood up and walked. The Bastard, being his bastardly self, lets out a chuckle. 

She reminds herself that Aurors don’t commit murder. (Do they? No, not the time for that line of thought.) Reaching under the cart, she picks up one end of the white thing - it’s damp and squishy, but solid under her fingers - and pulls out a ferret. 

“Oh  _ gross _ ,” bemoans the Bastard. “A rat!”

Tonks turns to look at him incredulously, her brow furrowed and her mouth open slightly. A classic “are you fucking dumb?” look. 

The Bastard doesn’t even have the decency to be ashamed, having taken her look as agreement and began shaking his head at the ground. As though the cobblestones could give him the answers he clearly so desperately needed, like how to keep his mouth shut.   


Looking back to the ferret, she picks up its stiff body with both hands, wand dangling loosely between her fingers. She can’t tell if it’s injured, she doesn’t know anything about magizoology healing magic, but looking at its tiny face and nose... It must have been so cold, out in this rain.

“Alright,” Tonks says, standing abruptly, “No harm done. You have a good day, Bas-sir. Bassir.”

Without waiting for a reply she hurries down the road towards her and Fleur’s apartment, holding the small body close to her chest. Her shins and knees have started to sting, so she probably scraped them up, but she doesn’t much care. When the apartment door nears, she realizes she now has to fumble for her keys. Balancing the immobilized ferret in one hand, Tonks sticks her wand between her teeth and shoves her free hand into her pocket. 

“Merlin’s mother’s ass,” she warbles around her wand, so it sounds more like “Merwin’s muwer’s aff.”

The apartment door swings open, warm air rushing out and hitting her like a warm duvet being thrown over her. Fleur stands in the doorway, looking as divine as ever. For a moment Tonks forgets what she was doing. After all, that’s her wife standing there, the light behind her casting a glow to her blonde hair and contrasting sharply with the black, satin slip dress she has on. Tonks swears she can hear music, but she always feels like that around Fleur.

“Nym?” The nickname falls from her head wife’s lips like honey, and if Tonks ever liked her first name it’s only when Fleur says it. “Why are you holding a ferret?”

Oh! Yeah! Tonks gasps, looking back at the immobilized ferret. 

_ Sorry, pal, _ she thinks.  _ You’d get preoccupied, too, though.  _

“I brought home a friend!” She says aloud, sliding past Fleur and into the living room. 

“A rodent...is your friend?” 

“You are the second person to insult him today.” Tonks gives a fake haughty sniff. “Rodents are just as lovable as cats or owls! Wait,” she looks around, “something’s...”

The room is covered in flower petals, for one, and the furniture has been hidden somewhere else to make room for a round table and two chairs. An elaborate set up with a fancy white tablecloth, a tall red candle, and two wine glasses. One has wine and the other has firewhiskey. Tonks racks her brain - did she forget something? Clearly! But what?

“We can eat once we’ve properly welcomed your friend,” Fleur says, and Tonks nods, because yes, she needs to stick to one train of thought. “Let’s bring the little thing into the bathroom and get you both cleaned up.”

Once the bathroom door clicks shut behind them, Tonks casts a  _ finite _ on the ferret. It screeches, bites her, and when she yells it throws itself onto the floor.

“ _ Merde _ ,” Fleur curses, pulling Tonks to her while the ferret runs around like it’s been confounded. “Nymphadora, are you alright?”

She nods, poking at the bit on her wrist. It bleeds sluggishly but lightly. “I’m fine, the little guy just got scared.”

Fleur signed as though a great weight had settled onto her shoulders. “That’s what happens when you bring an animal inside. You couldn’t have found an owl?”

“No, I couldn’t’ve,” Tonks says sharply, frustrated. Takes a deep breath, and calms herself down. Her wife hasn’t been any of the people to annoy her today. “It was in the rain, love.”

Fleur strokes her buzzed head, clicking her tongue. “Well, lets dry it off then.”

Wrangling a wet ferret is about as easy as wrangling a greased ashwinder. That is to say, not at all easy. It takes their combined efforts, three towels, and twenty minutes to capture the squeaking shit. Once it’s wrapped in a towel in Tonks’ arms as Fleur vigorously rubs another towel over its fur, it seems to realize they don’t mean harm and stops fighting. It peers up directly at Tonks, blue eyes wide and fur sticking up oddly. It’s cute, and makes her give a breathy chuckle. Once the ferret is relatively dry, she and Fleur find themselves sitting against the bathtub, shoulder to shoulder, and a bundle of half-dried squeaker wrapped in a towel in her lap. Tonks can feel the stresses of the day melt away slowly with each soft breath the ferret puffs out, Fleur gently dragging the tip of her finger in circles on its head. 

“Happy Valentine’s, ma cœur,” Fleur softly whispers.

“Oh that’s what today is,” Tonks says without thinking, and then turns bright red from the growing curls on her head to her toenails. 

Fleur giggles, loudly for a moment before Tonks shushes her, motioning to the now sleeping ferret. She leans over, though, and presses a kiss to her wife’s check. Fleur lays her head on Tonks’ shoulder, who leans her cheek against her head. 

“Happy Valentine’s, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> Aka the fic where Fleur and Tonks adopt a ferret. Can you pick up the ghost plot?


End file.
